Here is chapter 5, for your enjoyment. Thanks to everyone who left the lovely reviews- I really appreciate it!
(P.S. to Poppy2- the first of three stable scenes is in this chapter. I had been halfway through with writing when I saw your review, so I was glad I could grant your wish!)
The next day, I woke before the sun had made its way across the sky, before any other member of the household, save a few servants, had risen from their slumber. I moaned softly to myself. Usually I slept until Apollo's chariot had warmed the sky entirely, and it was unlike me to rise at such an early hour. I rolled over, attempting to sleep again. My failure to do so annoyed me, and I threw all my sheets to the floor, grumbling.
My bad mood was evident as I made my way to the wall, and the majority of the people I passed steered clear. The few brave souls that did attempt to speak to me instantly regretted it, because the look on my face was enough to send one to the underworld.
It didn't take me long to get to the wall. My feet knew the path well after the many trips I had taken there in the past few weeks. Climbing up the stone steps, I wondered what had made me awaken at such an early hour. I gazed out on Troy, taking it in, loving the cool breeze that played across my face and the reddish glow of the sunrise.
I sighed, planting my hands on the wall and leaning forward to look out at the country. I could hear the stirrings of the city behind me- the shuffle of the soldiers in the armory, the stable hands in the stable, the citizens in their houses. Troy in the morning and Troy at night were equally beautiful, I decided.
I gazed out on the horizon, scanning the beach and the sea, straining my ears to try and hear the distant lull of the ocean. It seemed more violent this morning than it usually was. Why? I squinted, trying to push my vision further.
Suddenly, the cool breeze was a merciless wind, whipping at my face, and the reddish glow seemed horrible and sharp, like a hue of blood settling over the plain.
My heart began to pound faster in my chest, making it difficult to breathe, and I struggled to say the word that had been forming on my lips only a moment before.
The scout who stood on the wall behind me, apparently, did not have the same problem with his vocal chords.
"SHIPS!" he yelled, raising the alarm.
- - - - - -
It only took that one word to send pandemonium through the streets of the city.
Women and children who had just minutes before left their homes were scurrying back inside them. Men were rushing to the armory. The carts and animals of merchants and farmhands rushed back into the gates to a variety of stables, sheds and homes. The screams and loud noise of a genuine panic instantly replaced the quiet serenity of morning.
I turned back in the direction of the shoreline, watching in horror as the ships slowly crept closer to the beaches of Troy. One ship, a ship with a black sail, seemed to be moving faster than the rest.
I had thought that the rumors of one thousand ships had been just that- a rumor, a piece of filthy gossip passed around among housewives and small children. Now, with the Greeks approaching, I could see that the rumor was true. There seemed to be no end to this swarm of ships, led swiftly by its black sailed forerunner, and they looked as if they filled the entire ocean with their masses, slowly tumbling over the line of vision in a never-ending waterfall. I shuddered but could not seem to tear my eyes away from the sight, as the mass chaos behind me seemed to grow louder.
I heard a clanking of armor and before I could react, was swiftly grabbed from behind. I struggled for a second as Hector spun me around.
"Charis, go back inside the palace and stay there with Andromache." He said firmly. His armor was already on. In one hand he held his helmet, and the other was tightly grasped around the upper part of my left arm.
"But-" I stuttered.
"Charis, do as I say, now." Hector commanded, pushing me forcefully in the direction of the palace. I nodded, and walked toward the palace, looking back just once to see him disappear in the direction of the armory.
- - - - - -
In Hector's quarters, Andromache and I sat in tense silence, waiting for news of the battle. Occasionally Astyanax would coo in his sleep from where he was napping in the cradle, making the only sound in the room for over two hours.
"It's just the first day." I said, no longer able to stand the silence. "He'll be fine, I'm sure."
Andromache nodded. "After all," she reasoned, her voice shaking slightly. "It's only the beach. No one has ever been able-" she stopped short at the look on my face. "What, Charis?"
My chest had become a block of ice, completely numb in my blind panic.
"The beach." I groaned, horrified. "The beach is where the temple is… and when the ships came, it was just past dawn… that means the morning rituals were still being performed!"
Andromache's eyes widened as she realized what I was saying. "Briseis."
She whispered.
At that precise moment, Astyanax woke from his nap and burst into tears.
- - - - - -
It was late in the afternoon when Hector finally returned from battle. It wouldn't have been proper for me to be in his quarters when he arrived, so I was escorted out shortly before he came. Secretly, I was glad- when Hector came back he would still be in his armor, which would be covered in blood. I never liked to think about what Hector was required to do as leader of the army- to me he was, and always would be, a good man who loved his country and his family- and I couldn't bear to think of him on the battlefield, murdering others. Luckily, because of his nature, it was easy to pretend Hector did not kill; but I'm sure if I had ever seen him coated in another man's blood it would have been infinitely harder.
I was half way to my own room when I realized that Briseis' room was in the same direction. I gulped painfully. I couldn't go there- I didn't know what had happened to her. I couldn't just pass by her room, the place where she slept, where she had told me story after story, the place in the household that was most hers. I didn't know what had become of her, and in truth, I was afraid. Afraid of the answer, afraid of the outcome of the morning's battle.
I have to speak to Hector. I thought miserably. Hector will know- Hector always knows.
I knew that Hector would probably be in a conference with the Priam and all of his advisors about today's battle and how they should approach tomorrow's. It could be hours before they were finished. And then there was the problem of actually catching Hector to speak to him. How would I find him? He could be anywhere in the palace, for all I knew.
And then it hit me- there was only one place Hector went when he was nervous, or confused, or just had time on his hands.
I turned and ran down the hallway in the opposite direction.
- - - - - -
The stable was cool and quiet, the sounds of horses neighing softly and pawing the ground filling the sweet night air. I marveled at how it could stay so wonderfully peaceful on a day such as this. For the first time, I fully appreciated why Hector loved this place so much- the calm was positively refreshing. I walked in slowly, as to not startle to horses. Smiling, I approached my own horses' stall. Hector had given her to me for my eleventh birthday, which had been slightly after my incident in the ocean. He had jokingly named her Vilmaris, which meant "protector from the sea", and told me that Poseidon himself wouldn't harm me if I owned a horse with such a name. Vilmaris' stall was close to Hector's horse, Kyros, so it was a good spot to watch and wait.
I turned to Vilmaris- it had been a long time since I had visited her, and I instantly felt sorry for it- she seemed to have genuinely missed me. Her nose reached eagerly for my outstretched hand, and I focused my attention on her, slowly stroking her muzzle and letting my mind wander. I realized I still had no idea of the outcome of the battle- I had been too worried about Briseis to ask anyone on my way to the stable. Now I was even more worried- Briseis' future was important, but there would not be a future for any of us if Troy were sacked.
I shook my head, and something caught the corner of my head. Turning, I was surprised to see Hector standing at the end of the stable, brushing Kyros. He noticed me looking at him and smiled slightly.
" You looked so deep in thought, I didn't want to disturb you."
" I was waiting for you." I said, shrugging. "I knew once you'd met with your father and his advisors you'd come straight here. I needed to talk… to see what happened…"
He turned his attention back to the horse, brushing gently, and I walked closer, situating myself on a bale of hay. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the sound of his slow, even brushes filling the space between us.
"Did you lose?" I said softly, finally working up the courage to ask.
He sighed. "Yes."
I had known it from the silence, but to hear it out loud was cementing it, making it real and final. It scared me- Hector was the leader of the army, the hope of all of Troy, the best. He was never supposed to lose. That was supposed to happen to the other country.
"I was the only one who came back." He said, explaining further. "Everyone else was killed."
I tried to suppress the shiver that was creeping up my spine. It had only been a small company of Trojans that had been sent to the beach, the Apollonian guard, since the army was still gathering, but the fact that Hector had been the only one left scared me more than I could express. I knew by the way he said it he could have very easily been one of the dead.
"How-?" I said, my voice quivering. "What-?"
"Achilles and the Myrmidons." There it was again- that dreadful name that made my whole body shake as if I had just plunged into freezing water. For the first time since the beginning of our conversation, Hector looked up at me. "He-" he said incredulously- "he threw a spear right at Tecton. It must have covered ninety yards at least- a hundred even. It-" Hector's hand moved to his chest with a look of pure disbelieve- "It hit him square in the heart."
"That's not possible." I said, tensely.
Hector turned his face back to the horse, beginning to brush him again. "I saw it with my own eyes."
I brought my knees to my chest, my eyes beginning to swim with tears. "I-if they took the beach that e-easily…" I whispered. "What will h-happen to T-troy?"
" Charis…" he looked up again, this time his face determined. "As long as I live, I will not let this country fall."
I nodded. I only realize now how open-ended that statement was, how much it left to be desired. At the moment, I stayed contently oblivious to the warning his promise held.
"How bad is he?" I asked Hector. "Achilles, I mean."
"He fights only for glory, and nothing else." He said in a quiet voice. " He and his men are absolutely vicious. He desecrated the temple of Apollo, and his men killed the priests."
I gasped at his words, and the temple triggered my memory. "Hector!" I said, my voice becoming frantic. "Briseis- did you see Briseis?"
He locked gazes with me, his eyes hardened. "You mean she wasn't in the palace this morning?"
"No!" I said, panicking. "She's been doing the morning rituals every day since Helen arrived!"
He paled instantly, his jaw setting. "I didn't see her in the temple."
Tears were pooling in my eyes again, and my voice was slowly climbing in volume.
"You mean they took her!?" I exclaimed, my head spinning.
" I don't know, Charis." He said in a small voice. " I don't know."
I screamed, a combination of anger, sadness, and frustration escaping my lips. "It's all Helen's fault! If she had never come to Troy, none of this would have happened! That stupid, depraved, horrendous, careless, awful-"
Hector strode over to me, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Charis!" he said, shaking me slightly. "Charis, look at me!" I stopped screaming and did as I was told, though my anger was still evident in my eyes as I looked at him. "You can not blame her!"
"Not you too, Hector!" I moaned loudly. "Don't you realize what she's done to us?"
"You don't understand Charis." He said, holding my gaze. "Yes, she and Paris made a huge mistake in having her come here. But Helen can not be blamed for this. You are- and have been for the last 12 years- surrounded by people who love you and care for you. It is obvious from your position that they made a mistake. But Helen- Helen has spent all her life completely deprived of love. Her father didn't love her, and neither did her husband. I doubt you can even remember what it was like in your father's household-"
"I can." I said softly, my voice less defiant.
"Well then, do you remember what you would have done to leave- to escape?"
"Anything." I murmured.
"Exactly- you would have done anything. Helen was given an opportunity to escape and, for the first time in her life, be happy. You got that chance, too, and you took it- why shouldn't she be able to?"
I didn't answer him, just shrugged. I was still unconvinced- after all, my escape from my father's was not about to start a war- but I thought it was sweet of Hector to try and defend her.
Even if she was adulterous scum.
Hector went back to Kyros, changing the subject.
"Are you and Paris still not speaking?"
I sighed. "No, we're not."
" You should forgive him, you know. I did."
I smiled sadly. "I still don't think I'm ready."
He nodded, and the room drifted to silence again. I turned my thoughts to how Hector had spoken of Helen, still confused.
How does he do that? I thought. How can he be so sympathetic to her? I did not understand how Hector can feel for another the way he did, how he could put his anger aside and pity someone like Helen. But I was aware of how it changed him, what it did for him.
This is what made Hector a great leader. It was not ability to throw a spear, nor his talent with horses. His looks and charm were obviously not of much help, either. Even his intelligence was only a small factor.
The reason was simple. Hector could feel the pain of others in a way most could not, could understand his subjects in a way Agamemnon or Menelaus would never be able to comprehend.
This was why Troy, Hector's home, stood so tall, why it was so powerful, why it was worth fighting for, even dying for. This is why Greece, country of Agamemnon and Menelaus, was barely united and so low on morale.
Cruelty can rule a country, but compassion can unite it.